


snow and stone

by ayuminb



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Ambiguous Allusions to Something, F/M, Post-Canon, Post-Series, Post-War, Wordcount: 100-500, book!canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2019-03-30 16:25:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13955448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ayuminb/pseuds/ayuminb
Summary: Jon doesn’t know what to think, honestly, but smiles a little.





	snow and stone

“Sansa.”

 

She doesn't react how he expects her to, neither fear nor shock; Sansa turns to acknowledge his presence with a short nod before she goes back to playing with the snow. At least that's what it seems to him; crouched in the ground, delicate hands packing snow and placing stones one on top of the other – truly, what else could she be doing?

 

He comes closer, nonetheless, kneels next to her, watches attentively. “Oh. You’re building Winterfell.”

 

Jon doesn’t know what to think, honestly, but smiles a little. He won't say it out loud, but he's desperate to find a connection with her, this girl he'd found in the Vale. So different from the sister that left for King's Landing, with big hopes and even bigger dreams. She'd shared little of what she'd endured during their time apart, but Jon fears it might be worse than what he suspects, so he doesn't press. He'll wait it out, forever, if he must.

 

Then Sansa stops, freezes up so suddenly and with a strangled gasp that he wishes he’d kept his mouth shut. Their eyes meet and, suddenly, the fact that they crouch in the middle of Winterfell’s destroyed yard stands out painfully to him. And to her, if the way her eyes glaze over says anything.

 

“It's all there is left,” she says, softly, always softly. “Of Winterfell. Snow and Stone.”

 

Distantly, Jon can almost hear a whisper, the echo of unspoken words. Unknown words, hanging over their heads. Tentatively, he goes to grab her hand, lets it hover until she gives him a little smile, nodding her consent.

 

“We'll rebuild it. One day, Winterfell will be what it once was, I swear it to you, Sansa.”

 

“All right.”

 

Jon smiles, willing her to understand he means every word; then he lets go of her hand and grabs a stone, places it within the castle walls made of snow. It's with a giddy sense that he sees her resume packing the snow and he shifts closer, a little bit.

 

“Together,” he says, bumping her shoulder gently.

 

Sansa bumps his shoulder back, grins at him, for the first time in  _ ages _ , and says, “together.”


End file.
